


I Found a Burning Rose

by Eshmoop



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dave Stop Now Please, Dumb Decisions, Extensive Monologuing, Fluff and Angst, Karkat Is A Lil Grump, M/M, Seriously Dude No, dudes being dudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-08 18:06:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15935561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eshmoop/pseuds/Eshmoop
Summary: Your eyes are red. Well, probably. They just seem grey to you, like some kind of dumbass secret you don’t get to be a part of, which fucking sucks. This beautiful pile of garbage is all thanks to your soulmate. Whoever that is.A soulmate au ft. Dumb jokes, long-ass rants from both protagonists, talking to yourself, and a general lack of normalcy. Brought to you by Desperation™ and A General Lack of Sleep™





	1. Whoop whoop let's get this shame bus rollin

Your eyes are red. Well, probably. They just seem grey to you, like some kind of dumbass secret you don’t get to be a part of, which fucking sucks. This beautiful pile of garbage is all thanks to your soulmate. Whoever that is. At least you know that whenever you get to meeting this soulmate, it will be pretty obvious. After all, who else managed to lose the genetic lotto and end up with freak-of-nature eyes like you? It would be pretty obvious once you met the person.

Anyways, you could honestly care less about the whole soulmate bullshit. The only part of it you actually care about was finally getting to see the color red, since you apparently wear it really often, accidentally thinking it’s gray. And then proceed to wave it off, like you knew about it’s true color the whole time and were just fucking around, like the master coolkid you are. Even though Rose always manages to figure you out immediately.

Rose could honestly stop right now with the whole analysing you constantly thing. It was old the second she started it, and it only got worse. You would prefer to bottle up those wonderful emotions and never think about them, thanks very much. Especially the ones concerning the fact that apparently you “attempt to cover up your flaws with a thick layer of quasi-macho ridiculousness, Dave”. So what? You don’t give a shit. Yeah. Totally do not care at all. You are cool as the coolest goddamn cucumber in existence. Like, a fucking flash frozen cucumber that was grown on top of an iceberg and spent all of it’s time chilling out, being cool, and looking really phallic. Total cold dick plant.

Honestly, you’re just trying to distract yourself with the whole dick-cumber thing. School is starting in, like, twenty minutes, and Dirk is too busy getting ready for work or what-fucking-else he does with his time to drive you, so you have to take the bus. For the first time in years. What wondrous joy. You aren’t even completely sure what number your bus is, just that Jade takes the same one as you, and she’s typically energetic enough to notice from a mile away. Goddamn furries.

You brush your teeth with a grey (red) toothbrush, and pull on a grey (also red, dumbass) baseball tee with a record on it. It looks cool as fuck, and manages to brag about your dope dj-ing at the same time, which is a total win. Who doesn’t love a coolkid with a nice fashion sense? (Note to self, ignore Terezi whenever she makes up another bullshit word, or else it’ll become a regular part of your vocabulary, and no one wants that. Next thing you know, you’ll be licking random stuff and claiming it helps you “see it better”, even though you’re blind).

To finish off your beautifully nonchalant fashion, you throw on a pair of shades, gifted to you from Bro. It’s one of the only things you’ve ever kept from him, even after all that went down. You couldn’t manage to give them up, even though you’ve managed to realise how bullshit his so-called parenting techniques are, after a few years of having it drilled into your brain by a wonderful combination of Dirk and exasperated shrinks, who just want you to stop rambling and get to the nice, juicy root of your issues already. Ha. As if.

So, school is a go. Fuck. You’d hoped that something miraculous would happen by now, like your sink would malfunction and spew out acid instead or some unrealistic shit like that. But, alas, you are left to just another day of endless suffering and turmoil, at the hands of uncaring teachers who know not but gifting pain to the many lost souls of Alternia High. It is a cruel, cruel existence. As some dude probably said once, “life is but a prelude to death, and school is worse than death, or something like that”. Beautiful. That quote really brings a tear to your eye.

You’ve really got to learn to shut it before you get into your classes, or else you’ll get detention again. Which, by the way, was a major learning experience for you. Who knew that calling your teacher a “major fucking bitch-witch” out loud during a long winded rant would land you in trouble? Certainly not you. And definitely not John, who had totally not dared you to say it during history class for a hundred bucks. Nope.

Speaking of John, he had pestered you a few days ago, talking about how he’d met this new kid to the school, Kitkat or whatever, and was gonna drag him along to your table during lunch. Apparently the guy was a major asshole. Kept on calling John a nooksniffer, whatever that meant. Seemed like he’d fit in perfectly with the wonderful collection of rejects you call your friends. You wonder if anyone has met him other than John. Probably Rose, since she manages to find out everything before you even consider it to be a legitimate option. Your half-sister scares you sometimes. Okay, your half-sister scares you a lot. Or all the time.

You step outside, backpack hanging on only one shoulder, since to have both straps on would be a sign of weakness and general not-coolkid-ness, which is not an option. The walk to your stop is only a few minutes, and you use the time to look around at the beautiful suburban utopia surrounding you. Honestly, you had no idea there could be this many shades of beige before moving from Texas to this mediocre town. You aren’t entirely sure how Dirk managed to get the money for the move, but you also really don’t want to know. You’re sure that if you found out you’d probably pass out. Or vomit. Or both, at the same time.

The bus stop is right in front of a bland colorless building, which is in between other bland, colorless buildings. You’re pretty sure that if there was some kind of beauty pageant centered around mediocrity, this town would win. You aren’t even sure what most of these buildings are for, due to the general lack of decoration or anything else that could be considered unique or visually gratifying. It’s like time is stuck in this place, frozen forever to create some sort of suburban purgatory, for lost souls who just need a little push into hell.

You wait at this stop for what feels like hours, but is honestly probably just ten minutes, and then step onto a standard yellow bus with the numbers four dash thirteen on it. You kind of wonder exactly what that means, but then decide that you don’t give a shit. Numbers are just numbers, no matter what the context is, and anyone who thinks differently can gladly fuck off.

Spotting Jade energetically waving at you, you step over to her spot, sitting down to talk to her until you inevitably leave this B.O.-scented vehicle. Seriously. Does anyone wear deodorant anymore? It shouldn’t be this hard, people. For being such an apathetic person, you are incredibly enthusiastic when it comes to the topic of personal hygiene. You bring up this topic to Jade, who you now realise has been asleep since you began talking. This should not surprise you as much as it does.

Jade snores a bit when she sleeps. You find it kind of cute, remembering back when most of your interactions with her were awkward flirting and trying to not stumble over your words every time she smiled. Part of you misses it, but at the same time, you know that whatever it was you two had is better left in the past. After all, anything that results in ignoring the girl you used to like for almost three years is better left in the past.

You look out the window, distracting yourself with moving trees until you arrive at school. The building looks grey and white, reflecting your school’s monotonous colors. Of course, Rose had oh-so-kindly informed you a few years ago that the school colors were actually white and red, but you don’t really give a fuck. It looks white and gray, therefore it is white and gray. Plus it never helps that you like to just… forget that red exists. That makes the whole bullshit soulmate thing easier.

The sun shines right into your face, but luckily your eyes are protected by your trusty sunglasses. Sure, they make you look like a douchebag when you wear them inside, but you could really care less. It just helps to give others a preview to your absolutely charming personality. Not to mention the fact that you can barely see without them (thanks sun sensitivity).

Stepping out of the bus, you look around at the students scurrying around you, like a bunch of ants with unique little tasks to do in order to benefit the colony. Only, it’s school, so they’re less benefitting the colony, and more doing a bunch of repetitive work that mimics actual learning. God, you absolutely hate school.

You spot John out of the corner of your eye, characteristic derpy waving already in motion. Oh well. So much for wanting to keep the whole coolkid factor in place all year. Next to him stands this short, grumpy looking kid. His pale hair and skin almost rivals your own, with dark clothes emphasising just how light he looks. He’s clearly albino, like you, only he clearly pulls it off way better. You file that little thought into the “bullshit you will never think about again” part of your brain, and start actually listening to Egbert.

“So, this is Karkat! He’s new, and moved from... California? Or was it Boston? Honestly, I’m pretty sure that every time I ask he gives me a different answer, but that doesn’t matter! Dude, stop glaring at Dave and say hi already.”

Karkat glares, fidgeting with his sweater in a way that kind of makes it seem like he’s just adjusting it, but you know better.

“Fuck off, assface. No one asked for your opinion. So I’m Karkat. Don’t ask about me about my life, or tell me stuff about your life, because I could legitimately give less of a shit. I’m just here for the next few years to finish school, avoid idiots like Egbert, and then leave this fucking dumpster fire of a town. So far, I’ve already failed one of my goals, but whatever. Now that summer’s over, he’ll hopefully stop following me around like a lost barkbeast.”

“... ‘Sup.”

You wonder what’s wrong with this guy. Clearly, major issues with censoring himself, plus confusion over what regular English terms are (barkbeast? What the hell does that mean?), not to mention a wonderful dose of hating everything. You make sure to remember that he is a major asshole, and avoiding him all school year would be the best option. Even though he seems kind of cute when he starts ranting about whatever it is that he’s so fixated on.

“-have got to be kidding me, with that ‘sup bullshit! First, you ignore my simple question about what fucking idiotic nurse dropped you on the head when you were born, then you just keep zoning out. John clearly has terrible taste in friends. I’ve only met one so far, and I already want to gouge out my eyeballs with whatever plastic kitchen utensil this school uses to consume it’s pathetic excuse for “food”. Sure, it won’t help with the whole having to hear your dumbass words, but at least then I won’t be forced to look at your stupid douchebag face. I mean, really- who wears sunglasses inside? Assholes. Assholes do that. So clearly I know what subcategory of humanity you fit into. You hear that, Dave? You. Are. An. Assh-”

You zone out again, this time checking your phone, and setting a timer to see how long his rant is, and get prepared for future interactions with this information. Maybe you can play a video of a really loud whistle blowing for however long this lasts? Or one of those audios that sounds like the noise is getting higher and higher, but really doesn’t do anything but make the listener super fucking paranoid. You get a text from Egbert, informing you of the fact that this type of rant is a regular occurrence, and Karkat will tire himself out in approximately fourteen minutes and thirteen seconds. Sounds great.

While he continues to yell at you about whatever, you shove your backpack into the metal prison typically referred to as a locker, still ignoring him. His face is getting all gray now to match his eyes. You wonder if this means that his eyes are red like yours. Huh. Small world. You realise that he has not spoken for a few minutes.

Gathering your books, you look back to see if Karkat’s still there. Apparently, he seems to have taken a very angry vow of silence until you notice him, so this triggers another spew of word-vomit. He seems to have gathered his books in the time he stopped talking (his locker is next to yours? This is going to be annoying), and is now stomping with you towards your first class, which you learned that you share with him from John. Fucking Egbert. As if chemistry didn’t suck enough.

Karkat decides to grumpily sit down next to you, slamming his books down on the lab table in a way that will most likely result in him breaking the glassware balanced on top of it one day. Right now, it seems like he’s gone full circle with his complaints, returning to his intense hatred of your sunglasses. Part of you wonders if you should just take them off now, and risk blindness for the next few minutes for the sole purpose of fucking with him. To be honest, it’s kind of tempting. But that would also mean making actual eye contact with a person for the first time in years, which sunglasses help you to avoid. It’s not your fault that people make you uncomfortable… they just kinda do. Not that you would ever say that out loud.

He suddenly stops talking for what seems like no reason at all, until you hear the teacher start droning on about some shit that won’t be applicable to your future in any way whatsoever. Not that you actually pay attention enough to apply it in the first place, but… whatever. It’s the thought that counts, right? And you’re thinking that school is bullshit.

You feel a little nudge on your arm, and look down to see a piece of paper with what looks like a dick with a frowny face drawn on it. Karkat must be just as bored as you right now. Glancing up at him, you notice that he’s clearly half awake, struggling to pay attention to the balding man lecturing your class. You figure that it would probably be a good time to respond to his note before he passes out completely. You draw a little penis with shades on next to it, with a little speech bubble stating “Sup, bro.” You think that it has a perfect level of response and general aloofness that you strive for regularly. The secret formula to being the ultimate coolkid.

He notices your response, and grabs the paper, crumpling it a bit at the edges where his unclipped fingernails dig in. You’ve got to buy this dude a nail clipper. Seriously, those things look sharp enough to kill a small animal. Karkat scribbles out a disturbingly long response before shoving the paper back at you. His handwriting is barely legible, and written out in entirely capital letters, which is slightly terrifying and probably way too time consuming to be worthwhile. Also, there are some spots where he got so… enthusiastic… that he ripped through the sheet with his pen. You wonder what this guy’s fucking damage is.

His angry response states that “YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME. MY ORIGINAL AND BEAUTIFUL ARTWORK WAS JUST RUINED BY A SHITTY GODDAMN SCRIBBLE. THERE HAS GOT TO BE SOMETHING GOD HAS AGAINST ME, BECAUSE I DID NOTHING TO DESERVE SUCH A PAINFUL EXISTENCE. WELL THEN, FUCK YOU GOD. >:( OH, AND THOSE SUNGLASSES LOOK STUPID AS FUCK ON YOUR LITTLE DICK SELF-PORTRAIT. JUST SAYING. A TODDLER COULD DRAW BETTER THAN YOU, DUMBASS. SPEAKING OF WHICH-”

You kind of zone out while reading, skipping over sentence after sentence of Karkat insulting you and your beautiful art skills. Clearly, he doesn’t understand just how much work you put into making your drawings as ironically terrible as possible. This man has absolutely no respect for the fine arts. So what if the dick you drew looks more like it was drawn by an infant having a stroke? It was obviously a very personal and well thought out decision backed up by years and years of extensive studying in the field of visual arts.

After fully skimming through his rant, you respond with an eloquent “ha.” and continue to respectfully ignore your teacher. He has clearly gone through a lot to get to his position, and you aren’t about to push that aside just because you have absolutely no fucking clue what he’s talking about. So, you write down “notes” in your notebook, which are definitely not just ideas for new comic strips. That would be disrespectful, and your beautiful characters have no place in an environment of learning such as this. Even though Hella Jeff is currently studying for his PHD in fuckassery. Hm. Well, with that sort of logic, who’s to deny you from just a bit of distracted comic-writing?

A few panels of artistic beauty in, you realise that Karkat has been tapping you, trying to get your attention. By how frantic he is, you assume that it’s been going on for a while. Looking up at him, you notice just how grumpy he is. Like one of those tiny gnomes on old ladies’ lawns. He’s cuter though. Wait- what are you saying. You’ve only known the guy for less than a day, and your brain is already thinking about how you think he’s attractive? That’s… really sad. Whatever. It’s chill. You’re chill.

You stare down at the paper shoved at you, totally not in a pathetic attempt to distract yourself back into coolkid territory. Because that would be completely pathetic. The sheet is so messed up that you can barely even tell where the college ruled lines once were. They’re so covered up with angry, decipherable writing that you can’t tell what’s words and what’s pissed off scribbles. You wonder how Karkat manages to get himself so riled up with practically nothing to work with. He should try out theatre- he seems over dramatic enough for it, anyways.

Suddenly, you hear your name from the low, droning voice of your teacher, and look up, spine straightening up so quickly that it makes you almost fall out of your chair.

“Dave? Please, guide the class through question seven.”

Fuck. You have no idea what’s going on, and you’re not even sure if you have the paper with question seven on it. You’ve gotta think up something quick. It has to be smooth- so smooth that neither the teacher nor your classmates will notice that you fucked up.

“Uhh… What was the question again? I don’t have the paper. So. Yeah.”

You emphasize your statement with some carefully placed finger guns and a look of pure aloofness. Despite your certainty that this worked, the teacher seems less than impressed, proceeding to ask for the sheet of paper that you were so unashamedly staring at for the entire period. Glancing over at Karkat, you can tell that he’s just as scared as you.

“What paper? I don’t have a paper.”

As you say this, you notice Karkat look around for a place to hide the sheet, ultimately deciding that no where will be successful, and shoving it into his mouth. So yeah. That just happened. He chews it a bit, swallowing in what looks to be a great amount of pain. You’d honestly feel bad for the guy, if he didn’t just do something so incredibly stupid.

Your teacher stares at the two of you in complete shock, his mouth wide open and ready to catch a bug. Or a tiny, flying dick. Hey, a guy can dream. Clearing his throat, he finally speaks, and you grimace, ready for whatever punishment is coming next. But, thank god, the bell rings. Karkat and you grab your books in a frenzy, running out of the door before your teacher even notices you leaving.

Karkat starts to yell at you, probably about how all of this was your fault, and he was forced to swallow the paper in an act of unforgettable sacrifice. You break your oath of constant emotionlessness to smile a bit at his antics. And if your face turns just a bit red, well it’s not like anyone would point that out. Not to mention that you wouldn’t even be able to tell. Thanks, soulmate. As ridiculous as the guy is, you’ve gotta admit that these past hours(? Has it really been this short?) have been some of the best in your life. Looking at his mouth, you realise that his tongue is a bit grey now, probably from all the writing on the paper he downed. You really shouldn’t find it as cute as you do.

As the two of you walk down the hallway, you look over and see a couple: one freshman, one senior. They pass each other in the hall, and for a second, their eyes meet, and they keep walking. But then, out of nowhere, they both stop and look back in shock. They’ve got to be soulmates. This is vaguely reminiscent of the last time you saw a fabled soulmate meeting- it was at a football game, and you went with your cousin, Roxy. Halfway through the game, you realised that it had been, like, twenty minutes since she left to grab snacks, and decided to look around for her.

Next thing you knew, Roxy was in the back of the stadium, making out with a cute green eyed girl. You were happy for the two, of course, and Calliope was the best thing to happen to Roxy in what felt like years, but you couldn’t help but feel lonely for the rest of the night, awkwardly sitting next to your sister and her soulmate while they watched together. It isn’t that you hate the concept of soulmates, exactly. Just that most of the people you know have already met theirs, at school or whatever, and you’re still lonely. Admittedly, it’s probably due to the fact that you’ve never let anyone see your eyes without a nice pair of shades concealing them, but that doesn’t matter. You’re fine without a soulmate.

Karkat has clearly noticed the couple as well, since he begins to talk about the wonders of romance or some bullshit. The guy is clearly invested in the whole soulmate process, and you wonder if he’s got one. Part of you considers asking, but then you realise that it can be a pretty touchy subject for people who lost their half, or just didn’t really click, which is as weird as it is common. You ultimately decide asking wouldn’t be worth it.

“So, you’re pretty invested in this. Got a soulmate?” Fuck. That was not intentional. Karkat looks like he’s about to cut off your head.

“No I don’t. And just because I haven’t met the one yet doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the process, fuckass. I just happen to like learning about love. For example, last night I watched Love Actually. So ha.”

It takes all of your energy to not start laughing then and there. Of course he’s a fucking rom com nerd. What else would you expect from the angriest person you’ve ever met. Failing at concealing your smirk, he notices how funny you find it all and starts to rant even more, somehow.

“Oh, fuck you too. Just because I can appreciate culture and you can’t, doesn’t mean you should mock me like a fucking toddler! Go shove your shitty opinions on movies up your ass, you-”

“Dude. Chill. I really don’t care. You’re just so… enthusiastic? About all this?”

You say the last bit like it’s a question, since you honestly aren’t sure if he’s going to murder you and dump your body in an alley because of everything that’s come out of your mouth in the past few hours.

‘Of course I’m fucking enthusiastic! Why wouldn’t I be when you’re waving your bullshit in my face like it’s the end-all be-all of opinions, when clearly you’ve never even seen a single one of my favorite movies!!”

Okay, that one’s probably true, because you actually have taste. Not that you’d say that out loud. Oh fuck. You just said that out loud, didn’t you. You’ve really got to break the whole habit of constantly talking to yourself, it’s becoming a huge issue.

“Nope. No. Nononono. I can’t handle this bullshit right now. I’m going to History now, assfuck. Have fun in your little hellhole of idiocy. Bitch.”

He strides away, clearly confident in whatever the fuck kind of exit that was. John has really got to figure out how to make better friends. Well, at least you won’t have to see him for another day, right? Right. You ignore how oddly sad that makes you feel, in favor of maintaining your coolness.

The next few classes pass in a blur of boredom and writing notes to yourself, for literally no reason at all. You wonder what Karkat would think of some of them, but then try not to think anything else like that, because you’ve only known the guy for less than a day, and having any feelings beyond mildly tolerating him is honestly kind of bullshit. By the end of the day, you’re exhausted, stressed about your homework, and ready to leave. Forever. Not that doing that would be an option, of course, but whatever.

Your bus is parked right outside of the school, thank god. Because last year, you had to walk for what felt like a mile just to get to it, thanks to how painfully big your entire school is, and by the end of your trek your sunglasses were sweaty enough that they could practically slip off of your face at a moment’s notice. Not that they ever did that, of course, because if they did, you’d have definitely noticed, and held them on as coolly as possible. And then once you got home, have a panic attack in your bedroom. But the last part is irrelevant.

Stepping onto the bright yellow horror-vehicle, you look around to see where Jade is. Rather unfortunately, it seems like she decided to stay after school and go to some science club. Lame. It looks like you’ll have to sit in the front, with all the socially inept losers and freshman hang out. You pull on your headphones in a clear act of superiority, and look out of the window for the rest of the trip. God, this is so lame. At least you have the wonders of ironically shitty dubstep to keep you company for a while.

Your phone buzzes a bit, and you stare at it, noticing a text from John asking about what you think about Karkat. You consider responding with a five paragraph essay on why he needs higher standards when it comes to friendship, but choose instead to respond with a simple, chill “He’s okay, I guess”. It really brings out how little fucks you give when it comes to Karkat. Because you definitely don’t care about the little guy. Not at all. Asshole.

Finally, you get to your house. The bus pulls up, you step off, you say goodbye to the driver, it’s just like it always is. The house’s lights are all off, so you just kind of assume that Dirk isn’t at home. This guess is backed up by the lack of people inside once you unlock the door and step inside.

Walking up to your room, you notice that Dirk went shopping while you were gone, picking up some food and- score! A twelve pack of apple juice. Fuck yes, you are gonna cherish this shit forever. Grabbing the juice, you head into your room and open the closet door. Since leaving your Bro, you’ve managed to break a ton of the (probably unhealthy) habits you’d formed from years with him, but storing food was clearly not one. There are bags of chips and apple juice hidden next to a bunch of ironic sweaters, and you place the new containers nearby. Perfect.

Starting up your vast expanse of homework, you think about just how interesting the day has been. It’s been one of the most eventful in what feels like forever, now that you’ve met the eye catching weirdo known as Karkat. Not that you think he’s cute or anything. Ugh. Who are you kidding. There’s absolutely no doubt in your mind that you find the rom com obsessed ball of anger kind of attractive, but it isn’t like that’s going to go anywhere.

He seems too focused on soulmates, anyways. If there’s any way you could ever get to date him, he’d have to see under your sunglasses, which is the equivalent of looking at a girl’s ankles like a million years ago. Not gonna happen. And that’s depending on the vague idea that he’s even your soulmate, which is literally one in seven billion. You clench your eyes shut for a bit, trying to just stop this from going where you think it is. No self hating thoughts for tonight- you have a fuckton of homework to finish first.


	2. O wow it's lying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some awkward fluff for ya nerves

As the weeks pass by, you only get closer to the tiny ball of relentless anger. Sure, there was that bit where you almost attacked him with a sword and so he ignored you for a few days (long story), and when he started using your social media platforms to type whatever dumbass rant he felt like telling your thousands of followers, thanks to Sollux’s wonderful hacking skills, but those are all in the past. Even though you do still get messages from your followers about what happened to “that dude with absolutely no chill”.

But hey, you two can argue about that tonight when you meet up at the mall for what is definitely not a date. Although your feelings about whether or not you want it to be one are as solid as ever, soulmate bullshit or not. You’ve been hitting on him unsubtly in the form of long-winded metaphors in which he is your prophesied knight in shining armour, but he always seems to either not get it or totally understand, shoving your friendship in the much loved completely-and-totally-awkward territory.

None of this should be so complicated. He’s told you he doesn’t care about whatever gender he ends up with (as long as it’s his soulmate), and you’ve already gotten past your middle school era of internalised self-hatred and constant no-homo-ing. But, alas, fate is a bitch who cares not for the love life of poor, poor dudes who just wanna get laid. Or have a fulfilling relationship. One of the two.

So you’re just slouching on your bed, listening to music, and ironically watching really bad porn. You get bored once people start talking about lemon stealing whores (what the fuck?), and switch to just kind of sitting there in anticipation for the date. Once again, not that it is a date. Two bros are allowed to hang out completely platonically even though one has a gigantic crush on the other. Totally.

A few hours of doing nothing later, you’re ready to leave. Grabbing your slightly more expensive but still decently shitty shades off of your nightstand, you think about what exactly there is to do at a mall. Like, seriously. Those things should have died out years ago, but here you are, about to enjoy some mediocre food court snacks while trolling around in Hot Topic. You ignore how thinking about Karkat makes you sweat a bit, forcing yourself to remember if you’re wearing deodorant or not, because that is something a non-coolkid would do, and if Terezi’s right about anything, it’s your status as the absolute chillest dude.

Stepping out of your house, you call out that you’re leaving to hang out at the mall to Dirk, who doesn’t respond. You wonder why this is for a second, before remembering that Jake is over right now, so you slip in a little statement about remembering to use protection before slamming the door shut.

Luckily for you, the mall is only a few minutes away. You consider the convenience of always being close enough to every major building in your town that you can walk to them in less than half an hour, but ignore that thought, since it would ruin the illusion that writing creates. By the time you arrive, it’s almost dark outside and there are crows hanging out on the trash cans outside of the mall. Fucking crows. You make sure to glare angrily at them through your shades on the way in, because those feathery assholes need to know their place.

Walking inside of the building, you notice a figure dressed in black just kind of standing there, grumpily watching a somewhat creeped out fast food worker make hot dogs for his line of customers. God, Karkat is cute even when he’s scaring other people for no reason. That’s just unfair. Waving at him in the most aloof way possible, you get his attention away from the terrified worker. He walks over to you, grinning like a madman.

“So, how’d you like my posts? I think I managed to show how much of a fucking idiot you are to the masses.”

You roll your eyes even though he can’t see them, since it’s the thought that counts.

“Dude. Seriously. Don’t you have better things to do than get Sollux to hack shit for you?”

“Nope.”

He pops the “p”, arms crossed in what is clearly an attempt at asserting dominance. Bitch please.

“If you’re gonna do shit like that, at least make an account for yourself. It’s not that hard.”

“As if. I like your account more, dumbass. Guaranteed likes since they appreciate my scalding wit, unlike some people.”

Karkat side eyes you, clearly trying to conceal a grin. He really needs to learn how to hide his emotions better. You consider giving him classes on it. Emotional Repression 101, taught by the infamous Dave Strider. It’s got a nice ring to it.

You ruffle his hair in clear defiance of his attempt at overthrowing your throne of aloofness. You might be wrong, but it kind of looks like he blushes in response. You bet he’s just uncomfortable. You awkwardly recoil your arm for what feels like hours but is probably only a couple of seconds. This… is very uncomfortable. You stare at each other for a while, seemingly grey eyes meeting shiny black plastic. He coughs.

“So. The mall. Is a place. Where we are.”

“Yup.”

“We should… we should do mall things now.”

“Yup.”

The two of you just kind of stand there, clearly relishing in the wonderous feeling excessively awkward encounters give. Oh, what joyous emotions fill your body. Also sweat. You realise how sweaty you suddenly are. Wiping your brow, you suggest going to Hot Topic and making fun of all the emo middle schoolers hanging out in there. Karkat glares at you, probably about to make some retort about his current use of the store’s skinny jeans, but he shuts his mouth. You find that kind of strange. Since when is Karkat known to be quiet?

Reaching the store of angsty teen daydreams, you spot a rack of really edgy looking sunglasses. You shout at Karkat to wait a second, and turn around. Removing your shades, you check a few times to make sure that absolutely no one (especially not Karkat) can see your bare eyes. You pick out some Hello Kitty sunglasses that are there for literally no reason, marring the dark display with their light pink frames.

Telling Karkat to turn back around, you strike a fashion model pose as if you’re on the cover of Vogue and not in a remarkably shitty mall a few miles south of the middle of nowhere. Karkat laughs, and you smile in return, glad that your antics have a receptive audience. This shade fashion show goes on for, like, half an hour before the two of you are kicked out of the store for being a general disruption, and trying to get other customers to join into your impromptu modeling sesh.

Karkat grumpily parks himself in front of the Hot Topic, right next to a couple of tweens vaping for absolutely no reason. How have they not been caught yet? Ah, the wonders of mall security. He takes in a deep breath, realises that the air kind of smells like cotton candy, coughs, and starts one of his elaborate rants.

“What. The. Fuck. What the fuck! We were just a couple of customers who wanted to buy shit having fun- and they totally ruin it! This is absolute bullshit. If I wasn’t at least mildly self-controlled, I would sue the garbage-money out of them until they’re begging on their hands and goddamn feet to get me to stop! Clearly the fucking worker drones wouldn’t understand a good time if it fell from the eiffel tower and right into their empty skulls-”

“Dude. I get it. Let’s just go somewhere else to complain.”

Karkat rolls his eyes and obliges, stomping over to the outside of some eyebrow salon. His mangy face-borders are nothing compared to the women displayed on posters outside of the shop. Honestly, as much as you admit that they are some choice babes, you still think that Karkat is just a bit (a lot) cuter. Even when he looks like he wants to start yelling at random mallrats.

You push your hair out of your face in a clear attempt to remind him to chill for a bit. It really doesn’t work. But, at least, he’s busy laughing about how much of “a fucking douchebag you look. Seriously Strider, what the fuck?”. You… can’t really deny it. The whole asshole-chic thing is kind of your brand, after all. Leaving it behind would be like abandoning your ironic jokes. Absolutely impossible.

The store seems like it’s starting to calm down, people leaving in pursuit of greener pastures and whatnot. The only other place you really wanted to go was Sephora. Because fuck off, don’t ask (you had to pick up some black lipstick for Rose, or else she would murder you in your sleep or something). So you drag a complaining Kikat over, shoving him into the lipstick isle to figure out what black is the absolute goddamn blackest black.

You suddenly realise that you can’t exactly tell what colors are dark red vs. black, especially thanks to the titles of makeup, which are especially unhelpful. Seriously, what’s the difference between “Charcoal Nighttime” and “Dusky Midnight”? You really need some sort of color guide for this shit. Anyways, you ask Karkat for his help, secretly hoping that he’s just as useless as you when it comes to identifying red vs. black. For reasons that have absolutely nothing to do with your crush.

But, alas, your dreams are crushed when he tells you that you’re a blind dumbass, and Charcoal Nighttime is obviously the red one. So you grab Dusky Midnight, and head over to the checkout counter, trying to look as cool as a teenaged boy can while buying overpriced lip stuff. The woman at the counter clearly doesn’t give a shit about your age or gender, thank god, and you head out.

The walk home is longer than you remember it being from a few hours ago, but you arrive nonetheless. Maybe it just feels longer, since Karkat isn’t at the other end waiting for you. Fuck. He clearly isn’t waiting for you, since he can obviously see the color red. There goes your dreams of being a housewife to successful yet grumpy working man Karkat. And you already spent all your money on aprons and feather dusters. What an absolute waste.

You secretly hope that making these dumb jokes can let yourself forget about what happened tonight- all buildup with no release. It kind of hurts, honestly. For a while, Karkat seemed legitimately interested. Awkward as fuck, sure, but interested nonetheless. You guess that it was just him trying to be closer bros with you. So then it’s your fault for shoving that onto him. Isn’t that your least surprising thought of the day. Shades are clearly the best tools for emotionally repressed teenage boys, since they allow you to look around with tears framing your eyes, but no one needs to know. Ah, the wonders of modern technology.

The lipstick is placed outside of Rose’s room inside of a fittingly tiny ornate coffin, and you text her that it has arrived, so she can chill the fuck out about her inhumanly pale lips already. With that, you get ready to fall asleep, and lay down on your bed, absolutely ready for a night of staring at a ceiling, rethinking every life choice.

After about an hour of doing nothing in complete darkness, you hear a little buzz from next to you. Shit. You thought your phone was on silent, but apparently not. Anyways, you pick it up, too curious to wait until the next day to check what you’ve gotten. It’s a simply worded text, one that seems absolutely worthless at first, but upon closer inspection, is everything you need. Well not really close inspection. It’s Rose after all, and she’s ready with both a response and some unneeded bullshit quasi-psychoanalysis.

**Rose:** You got me red lipstick, Dave. I thought Karkat was with you for some much-needed comedic relief, generally ignored sexual and romantic tension, and the ability to actually differentiate between black and the most used color in a lipstick isle. Are you absolutely sure that he can see red, or is it just denial?

**Dave:** fuck off and goodnight


	3. wow angst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry  
> whooooops

It’s a few days until winter break ends, and you’re so bored that you’ve even messaged Karkat’s creepy clown-stoner friend once or twice. You thought that Sollux was weird, but damn Karkat- what the actual fuck are you doing hanging out with Gamzee? He looks like he’s either about to give you a hug or murder everyone you love whenever you see him. It’s terrifying.

So, instead of doing anything actually useful with your time, you just watch shitty conspiracy theory videos on your phone for hours. So far, they’ve tried to convince you that Mothman is actually Chris Pine in disguise, 9/11 was caused by angry invisible kittens, and the next presidents will be those dudes from the Insane Clown Posse. You aren’t entirely sure which one is the best- but you’re gonna give it to the president one. That’s bullshit in the purest form, plus the video was just a computer screen recording of a powerpoint. Said powerpoint looked like it had been created by a blind two year old.

As you plug your phone into its charger, you hear some kind of ringing. Oh. That’s the doorbell, isn’t it. Shit, you hate having to answer the door, but Dirk is on a date with Jake and you have no interest in getting some family friend pissed off at you. Running down the stairs to make the obnoxious noise stop, you consider that it’s gonna be some religious creep trying to get you to worship the all powerful Sky Frog or some bullshit. You really have no interest in that, and would prefer to stay away if possible.

So, you just kind of stand in front of the door, listening to the ringing become even louder and more insistent. Finally, the person attempting to get your attention resorts to knocking as loud as humanly possible, and you give in. The door unlocks. You say some sort of greeting. You look down at whoever it is at the door, and you can see him clearly. It’s Karkat, holding some romcoms he probably wants to watch together.

He’s bright in the snow, brighter than anything else in the whole world, even with his weird emo fashion sense. His pale skin is undiluted by any darkness, and his eyes are probably-

Oh shit. Your shades are upstairs. You look away from him, slamming the door in his face. This can’t be happening, you think. But it is. The universe screams “get rekt bro” at the top of its nonexistent lungs, and you feel like you’re literally any second from passing out. Just- just think of the positives, right? You’re still unable to see red. You never saw his eyes, just his skin, and so everything’s fine. This- this is totally fine. It’s not like you never want anyone to see your eyes. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. He’s going to hate you, you know. For not showing him under your shades or something.

You remember that the door isn’t locked when Karkat struggles to get in, shouting something about panic attacks and how you need him to help or whatever. But you can’t let him in. Then he’d look into your eyes, and you’d know. You’d realise that, yes, you have been deceiving yourself this entire time. Karkat doesn’t love you- he could never, because the two of you weren’t made for each other. And that’s what he wants. His other half. That famed puzzle piece that will fit perfectly with his rough edges. You aren’t that- you could never be that.

Shoving the door further into its frame, you turn the lock on it and run upstairs. Because you can’t just ignore Karkat like this. He didn’t want to see what a disaster you are, he just wanted to watch some shitty movies and have totally platonic bro time, and so that’s what he’ll be getting. Stepping into your room, you see some sunglasses and shove them onto your face, ready to finally look at him in the face.

The door scares you a bit. It just stands there, ominous like it never has been before, and you freeze. This will be fine. Your eyes are dry now, and your skin is no longer bright red from embarrassment. Karkat is still waiting outside for you, probably freezing to death in the winter. Even though it’s not that cold outside and just barely snowing. Whatever. It’s still a dick move to leave your bro outside in the chilly weather. You swallow, ignoring the heavy pit in your stomach, and unlock the door.

Opening it, you notice Karkat just standing there like absolutely nothing happened. Just like after you tried to confront him about the whole lipstick color thing. He looks ticked off, sure, but nothing is particularly threatening about his demeanor. So you give him an ironic salute, and step aside to allow him entrance. For just a split second, he freezes. You doubt that he even realises it happened, and it’s over immediately, so you don’t mention it. Even though now you can confirm that he’s just as uncomfortable as you are. For some wonderfully asshole-ic reason, it helps a bit to know that you aren’t the only one affected by your freak out.

Entering your door, you can see his cheeks redden. It’s probably just the cold. Anyways, the movie gets turned on, and the two of you settle down to watch it with some apple juice and mediocre, practically ancient Doritos that you found in the corner of your pantry. The movie is lame as fuck, and you two laugh together, you in mockery of its pathetic attempt at humor, and Karkat because he actually likes it somehow. You theorise that he was dropped on his head as a kid or something and had to get a blood transplant from someone with absolutely no taste in film.

And yet, despite the fact that it should feel natural and perfectly normal, the conversations seem stilted- like someone jammed a spork into your usually natural communication-machine. Wow, that made no sense. But every time you’re about to make a joke about the interestingly garbage antics on screen, you pause just a few seconds, stopping your mouth from making noise until it’s just a bit too late for the comment to make any sense. And you can tell that Karkat is laying it on a bit too thin with the insults, never really making fun of you, and avoiding the usual stuff like “dumbass”, “douchebag”, and “literally just ironic tees and sunglasses taped onto a mouth that doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up”. To be honest, a part of you misses it, wishes for the wall of awkward to be removed and the two of you to be normal again.

But instead of saying anything about this tension, you just kind of sit there, eating garbage food and pretending that everything is fine. Things should cool down by the time school starts up again, right? Then you two can go back to being comfortable with each other. Just wait until school. Ugh, you’re actually hoping for school to start up- this is a brand new low.

On screen, a side character finds out that her soulmate is a chicken, and you snort, only kind of noticing that Karkat isn’t amused.

“Dude, why aren’t you laughing? That’s, like, right up your alley.”

“It’s… Just why are they joking about shit like this? I mean, sure I get the occasional low blow about soulmates, but fuck! The entire second half of this movie seems like it’s just dedicated to making fun of people. I- I’m turning it off.”

“Oh, okay. Cool.”

You look down into the bag of stale cheese-triangles, trying to ignore what just happened. It’s not your business if he’s uncomfortable. You can just let him cool down, and then turn on another or play video games or something. He stares at you for a second, as if he’s noticing something he’d never seen before.

“Bro. Why are you looking at me like I grew a tail or some shit? Chill the fuck out.”

“I- It’s nothing, Strider. Just ignore me.”

“Fess up before you start choking on your own words. Seriously, you look like you’re about to explode from actually holding back saying something for once.”

He hesitates for a second, looking ashamed, but ultimately decides to speak.

“Why are you just ignoring this, Strider? I mean, I’m clearly really fucking pissed off, but you’re just staring into space like always. What is it with you and being so goddamn aloof all the time? You can show some emotion, dumbass. It’s normal. Very human. God, any time anything happens, you just pretend that nothing happened and it’s all chill, but it clearly isn’t, so-”

“Leave.”

“What?”

You clench your hands into fists, trying to not let any tears slip past your shades.

“Go, Karkat. This is way too fucking uncomfortable for both of us, okay? You’ve got to realise that. Just… leave, dude. I’ll see you at school on Monday.”

He chokes on his words just a bit, staring at you like you grew a second head. He actually looks afraid. That- that isn’t real, right? He couldn’t be scared of you. It’s the last thing you want. Sure, you’re emotionally withdrawn and shit, but he never had a reason to be scared. You can’t do to him what Bro did to you. You feel guilt wash through your body like a wave that you never noticed was there- could ever be there in the first place.

As you try to say something to fix this disaster, he looks between you and the floor, probably regretting what he just said. Or hey, maybe he’s just trying to think of more things that feel like an emotional stab in the gut. Who knows? God, that sounds so fucking mean. You just can’t do this. And now it’s been too long to really apologise. Anything you say would just come off as complete bullshit, or making fun of him.

Uncomfortably shuffling away, he picks up the pile of movies, and steps out of your house. It’s dark outside, probably too dark to be safe for travel, but you don’t care. You have other things to focus on. Like how terrible school is going to be when you’re off of break, and back to seeing Karkat on a regular basis. You probably won’t know if it’s best to cry, punch, or kiss him. But there’s no doubt in your mind that you’ll just end up ignoring him, and suffering through a bunch of stilted conversations.

Worst of all, you can’t even hate him. After all, everything Karkat told you was the truth, even if it was harsh. You really do just ignore your problems instead of facing them, and you’re the most emotionally constipated person you know- aside from Dirk, of course. But that’s irrelevant. Shit, you already kind of miss him. This entire day has just been a new low. And that’s saying something, knowing your past of magical fuck ups.

But it’s almost ten, and Dirk should be back soon, so you clean up everything from the living room, and head upstairs, ready for hours of laying on your bed. For the past few days, you’d almost broken the habit, even passing out at eleven-ish, but you can already tell that tonight is not gonna be like that at all. Karkat yelling still rings inside of your head, echoing over and over and over and over until all you can hear is disappointment and self-hatred.

Setting your shades on the table, you think about what it would really cost if Karkat knew. Sure, he’d probably be mad at you for pinning all of your romantic hopes on him. But then he’d understand that you knew that he was too good for you. The two of you could just go back to normal, and then it would be like nothing ever happened.

Maybe telling him would be the best option. But you can’t do it, not really. It scares you too much, and he would probably never want to talk to you again, and it would be absolutely terrifying. But if you just go up to him, and slip the sunglasses off of your face, ignoring how much your palms sweat, arm shaky, you could possibly do it. Just jump-scare him with your inevitable romantic failure. Sounds absolutely perfect.

These thoughts bounce around in your brain as you fall asleep, like little fragile bubbles about to pop with the slightest amount of pressure. But at least there’s a some hope, right? Even if it is relying on the obvious fact that your crush is unrequited. Because you have to make it real to yourself- finally make it one hundred percent certain that you have no chance. Then you can move on from him, and everything will be fine. You can deal with rejection. You’re ready for it. Absolutely, perfectly, completely fine with it.


	4. wow actual plot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Karkat and Dave talk some things out, and then leave to talk things out some more.

It’s the first day of school since winter break, and you aren’t terrified at all. You decided that you’ll wait until the end of school, and then go up to him. That should make the shock easier, and you won’t have to see him for the rest of the day. If everything goes according to plan, it’ll be a week or so of awkward afterwards, and then you’ll get over your unrequited bullshit, and he’ll get over how uncomfortable he’s inevitably going to be once you show him, and then everything will go back to being completely normal. After all, the only thing you want is everything to go back to normal. Yeah.

You’ve decided that the most intelligent course of actions leading up to this afternoon will be to not tell anyone about your plans. Especially not Rose. That would be an absolute disaster, since you really don’t need to know just how mentally fucked up you are today. Or any day. But mostly today, because bets are that she’ll just end up talking you out of it, and so you’ll listen to her, and never end up repairing your friendship with Karkat.

There’s a little part of you, deep down inside, that thinks that this won’t work. This tiny section of your mind is absolutely certain that this is the worst possible thing to do in any situation. You ignore it, even when it shouts that Karkat won’t feel like this plan is going to resolve your problems, just bring other ones to the forefront. That tiny part of your brain can absolutely go fuck itself.

Getting out of bed, you wonder where you’re going to sit during lunch. Would it be worth it to still sit with John, even if Karkat is there too? It’s not like you don’t have anyone else to sit with. But then again, if you go somewhere else, your friends will know that something’s off, and then confront you about your general lack of coolness, that they’ve now managed to see through. Okay. You’ll still sit next to John. You can just ignore Karkat, right? Or pretend that nothing ever happened. Of course, that’d just be making him more annoyed at you for always being so aloof, but whatever. It’s not like you can ruin that friendship even more at this point.

You think back to the first time he ever tried to pry you out of your heavily guarded shell. It was one of the first days of school, and the two of you were sitting together at lunch. Vriska was making some dumb joke at your expense, and you just kind of snorted in response, not allowing your face to shift, no matter how much it hurt to listen to. Your demeanor was solid metal, and no heat could ever melt it. Karkat looked over at you, clearly wondering why nothing about the situation hurt you.

“Strider. Why the fuck are you just waving that off? Vriska was being a bitch- shut up Vris, you know it- and you don’t give a shit? Are you even capable of human fucking emotions, or what?”

“Dude. It’s whatever.”

You waved his concern off, like it didn’t hurt a bit to know exactly what he thought. He just looked more annoyed.

“It’s not whatever, dumbass. You’re just showing off to impress people that don’t exist- you hear that, invisible audience of unnecessary fuckery? You aren’t real, and if you were, you wouldn’t give a shit about Strider’s bullshit!”

Frowning a bit, you stood up from the table to throw away your barely eaten sandwich. You would miss it, but it’s a sacrifice that had to be made, no matter how delicious it tasted at the time. Karkat wasn’t buying it unfortunately.

“Oh yeah, go and throw away your food. We can all see through that, Strider. You aren’t fooling anyone, dumbfuck!”

And then you walked away. By the time you returned to the lunch table (Exactly five minutes. Not that anyone was counting.), Karkat had become distracted by John’s nerdy antics, completely forgetting his outburst a while before. So you just kind of sat there for the rest of the forty minute period, awkwardly pretending that absolutely nothing had happened- no I’m fine Rose, shut up- and you could deal with it.

And deal with it you did. By going home and getting all of your anger out through the age old practice of obliterating eleven year old asshole kids at your favorite games. Of course, you are aware that violence in video games results in real life violence and all that mommy-blog bullshit, but you own like thirty something swords. Violence is like your home away from home.

You ignore the memories that thought brings up, fights on the roof and blood spilling onto your jeans. Screaming at Dirk that you were fine, everything was fine, stop caring so much- no one gives a shit about you and it was just a fucking fight, okay? Bro wasn’t doing anything that wouldn’t heal eventually. Then getting dragged away from the shitty apartment by your brother, screaming for Bro no matter how relieved you felt inside, because he was the only family you really knew. Dirk was just a far away brother figure that left the first chance he got.

Of course, now he’s more. You barely see him, sure, but that’s because he has to provide for you by working almost nonstop. You forgive him for forcing you out of the apartment, shoving you into the suburbs, and leaving you to fend for yourself in high school. It was an adjustment, sure, but you made it. And you would fight through any other obstacles that came to you. Even the one circling around you right now, wings outstretched and beak sharp, glistening with fresh blood.

With that incredibly joyful thought, you leave to go to school. The day passes by like a blur- class after class after boring class. Then comes lunch. Sitting with Karkat feels like you’re shoved onto a pile of burning stones, forced down by weights, stopping you from ever leaving. The clock ticks on, uncaring to the scene you suffer in.

John trying to get the two of you to talk, like some off brand Doctor Phil. Karkat looking at anything that isn’t you. Rose talking to Kanaya in hushed, concerned tones, clearly scared for your wellbeing since you weren’t talking to anyone. Vriska laughing at Terezi’s terrible jokes, ignorant to the tension surrounding her. And, of course, you in the center of it all. The eye of the hurricane if you will. Except for as calm and unconcerned you seem to an outsider, tension surges through your body, locking your jaw and stopping you from speaking. Even eating is too much. All you can do is sit there, waiting for the period to end so that you can leave.

Karkat says something, and John laughs. You wonder if it’s about you. That wouldn’t be surprising. You aren’t exactly the hardest target for a joke to hit. If anything, you ask for it. And by you asking, you’re referring to the shades. They make you look like you want to seem like a douchebag. You would ditch them, but the fake, bright lighting is too much at school. And Karkat is there. And everyone is there. And you’re there. And you would freak out. And you should stop thinking about this.

Rose looks away from her girlfriend, starting to speak with you. You hear muffled talking, but your ears are too overwhelmed to really absorb anything.

“-afraid- - -you look terrible- -Karkat?- -relapse?- - -worried- -Kanaya- -I can’t- - -listen to- -I’m scared for-”

You sneak a glance over to her, and can see that her eyes are shiny. God, you wish that you could tell her that you’re okay, but the glue holding your jaws together is too strong. You frown a little, trying to send the message that you’re fine, everything’s fine, she should really stop worrying so much. She doesn’t seem to get it, and continues to rant until the bell rings.

The next classes are harder. Karkat is there, and you just have to keep your head completely forwards and not look at him. Even if he’s glaring at you out of the corner of your eye, you just stay how you are, completely still. He never notices that you can see him. You don’t know how to feel about that, exactly.

But the periods end, and you stand up out of your chair, and grab your books, and slip over a tiny sheet of paper reading “boys bathroom after school”. Hopefully he gets the message. Honestly, the only way for him to not would be if he was Jared, 19. But he’s Karkat, and he’s clearly literate, and you don’t know why you’re going so far for a dumbass Vine reference. The things you do for what you love.

He looks like he’s in shock, as if your message gave him a heart attack, but nods in agreement after thinking it over for a few seconds. Then stomps out of the room, ignoring the teacher shouting something about manners and “courteous walking”, whatever the fuck that means.

Grabbing your backpack out of it’s designated locker, your palms sweat. You wonder what the chance of him being your soulmate is. Then you pretend you never thought of something as stupid as that, because what the fuck Dave, this isn’t about your stupid unrequited feelings, it’s about getting your bro back. Yep. Only that.

You head to the boy’s bathroom next to the lunch room, and begin to wait. After what feels like half an hour, Karkat stumbles in, sweaty and out of breath.

“Hey fuckass, next time you give me a cryptic message about meeting in a bathroom, tell me which one you’re talking about first. There are thirty fucking men’s restrooms in the school. And guess which one I went to last? Fuck you.”

You smile a bit, just happy that he’s talking to you. Then you raise your hands up to your shades, terrified of what will happen next. Two words slip out of your trembling mouth.

“Sorry, dude.”

Removing the sunglasses feels like a Herculean task, but they come off. You look at him- pale, almost white hair, light skin, and- red eyes. You can see his eyes. They look absolutely beautiful. Red is just like him. Bright and all-consuming in it’s rage. You ignore the feeling of a tear slipping down your face, laughing in joy at this wonderful fuckery. This- this is too much. But then you see the rest of Karkat’s face. His mouth is downturned, jaw clenched. Shit.

“What. The. Fuck. Strider, you can’t just spring this on me! I-I’m not even sure if I’m mad at you anymore, or if I’m over that bullshit and angry about this! First you ignore me all day, and then I think that you’re going to apologise, but you just- you just spring this on me, and-”

“Shit. Bro, I’m so sorry. I just, you were so mad, and I thought you wouldn’t be, I mean, you’re too good for me, and so I don’t know. I thought I had to- and I’m so sorry.”

“You dumbass. You absolute goddamn dumbass. I’m not too good for you. Fuck. I don’t have the time to unpack all of the unique ways that statement is bullshit. I mean, you thought shoving this onto me was the only option, when we could just fucking- I don’t know- talk about it? God, Dave, what was going through your mind when you thought this would help?”

The tears stop flowing, beginning to pool around your open eyes. Karkat’s right. You can’t just ignore shit like this. You’ve got to talk about it. And that’s ignoring the fact that he’s your soulmate- your soulmate! You two should be happy, but you’re crying, and now he’s crying, and it’s a disaster. Even sobbing, Karkat looks handsome. Fuck, you’re in deep.

“I- We’ve got to talk about everything. I mean, fuck. You’re my- and I’m yours and I’m so sorry, and I didn’t want you to ever see me like this, but here we are.”

Karkat smiles a bit. What.

“God Strider, you completely gorgeous dumbass. How about this. Once we stop looking so sad, get coffee with me. We can, you know, talk through all of this shit. And when I say all of this, I mean /all of this/, so don’t act aloof, or I’ll get mad and break a mug or something.”

You grin in response. Fuck, you don’t deserve him. Nodding your head, you grab your shades and shove them back onto your face. As much as them being off of your face helps you connect to Karkat, you still kind of need them to not go blind. After all, not every place is as dimly lit as a school bathroom. Wow, this place is disgusting. The two of you walk out. It may not be perfection, but it’s as close as you’re ever going to get.


	5. Prom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeeeet  
> Oh look I'm actually done wow

“Fuck, dude, I look like a candy cane.”

You tug at the bright red suit covering your body. Why did you let Kanaya help you out on this? Oh. Yeah. You didn’t. She just kind of forced herself into this situation, and you let it happen because why not. Of course, looking like a fashionably dressed idiot during prom is better than looking like an idiot that can’t dress himself.

“Dave, you have to stop pulling at your tie- you’ll loosen it, and I still have to get my makeup done before I pick Rose up.”

Kanaya lines her lips with some black stick that looks like it could probably stab your eye out. Reminder to yourself: never make that girl mad. It could be fatal. Ignoring her request, you fidget with your bow tie, terrified and excited for the night to come. As long as you get your shit together enough to actually go to Karkat’s house and meet his dad and brother before leaving. You haven’t met them yet, but just hearing about them gives you chills. Sure, his brother seems okay. Annoying, but fine. But his father seems stern and overly calm, a characteristic you know and love.

Hopefully, you’ll be able to ignore the images of Bro that cloud your mind every time you meet someone who’s eyes chill your bones to their core, stern mouth stuck in an unbendable line. Besides, it’s Karkat’s dad. If he raised that lovable bag of screams, he’s gotta have a personality hidden somewhere. If he doesn’t, he’s clearly not a real Vantas.

Shaking your brain out of its fog, you overdramatically sigh, fake-fainting on top of Kanaya’s bed.

“Oh dearest Kanaya, whatever shall I do? Mine lover is an asshole, but has a heart of gold. Or, at the verilyest least, some sort of expensive looking plastic. Thou must help-est me, oh fair maiden, dressed in green!”

“I love you, but stop mocking me. Oh, and hand me that necklace.”

Her face hole says stop, but the smile unsuccessfully hiding in her eyes says otherwise.

“Why of course, my gorgeous companion. I shall send it over by dove, attached to a love letter shouting our platonic friendship from the heavens! The world shall learn just how much you mean to me, no homo of course.”

“Dave, I am dating your sister. You are dating my very male best friend. No homo my ass.”

You smirk at the weird way the cursing clashes with her strange English-but-not-really accent. Part of you wants to ask her exactly what its origin is, but the other, louder part of you has decided that it’s way more fun to live in ignorance. Besides, it’s super awkward to ask someone who is very clearly Not White where they’re from. Even if you aren’t really either. Well, you tend to pass as white thanks to your wonderfully fucked up genes, but that’s irrelevant. Besides, having basically white hair is dope as fuck.

Anyways, you shut up after her comment since she’s right anyways. Also, it takes way too much effort to keep up the whole fake-Shakespearean-thing up for longer than like, three seconds. Who knew being an asshat took so much effort? Certainly not you!

Once Kanaya finishes up with her makeup, the two of you gather up your things, and head into her car. First up, off to Rose’s house to pick her up, and then to Karkat’s, where you’ll figure out whether or not his family is as scary as they seem to be in the incredibly vivid scenarios that play out inside of your head. Most likely, it won’t be as bad as you think that it’ll be. And yet that still doesn’t stop your brain from overreacting as per the norm.

You stay inside of the car while Kanaya picks up Rose, not wanting to intrude on anything. And Roxy would probably attack you from behind if you so much as step into their gigantic rich-person house. Because seriously, what the fuck, how does Roxy make so much money? Your current running theories involve hacking into government files for anonymous groups in need of blackmail, or she’s actually a superhero. One of the two.

Anyways, you can’t exactly deal with her energy right now when you’re so busy freaking out. Of course, it isn’t that big of a deal. It’s just prom, right? You probably won’t even remember most of it in a few years. You especially won’t remember it if Gamzee ends up spiking the punch like rumor says he will.

Nonetheless, your palms sweat, and you check your phone for literally anything from Karkat saying “HEY DUMBASS, TURNS OUT MY FAMILY REALLY DOESN’T WANT TO MEET YOU, SO I’LL JUST SEE YOU AT PROM INSTEAD OF AT MY HOUSE. OH, AND I FINALLY ADMIT THAT YOUR MUSIC TASTE IS SUPERIOR TO MINE IN EVERY WAY.” Alas, nothing like that shows up. Just a bunch of Instagram messages ironically telling you their undying hatred in badly done English. You fucking love your fans.

Eventually, Kanaya finally returns with Rose in tow, and the three of you head off to Karkat’s house. Driving away from rich people territory, and back into average suburbia, you all scream/sing along to the music on the radio, despite the fact that you’re almost completely certain that Kanaya nor Rose has never heard this song before. Oh, the constant repetitiveness of modern pop music. Of course, your music is repetitive- maybe even more so- but that’s irrelevant, because it’s all done in the name of irony.

You reach his house. Stepping out of the car, and walking onto his front porch, you consider the possibility of just running away and hiding in an old lady’s bush. Heh. Old lady bush. You give yourself a mental high five for that one. Knocking on his door, you notice a tall figure stepping towards you from inside his home. His father. Fuck.

He opens the door and stands there, staring at you in what is definitely a judgmental way. After a few seconds of him looking and you freaking out, just a step away from full-scale panic, Karkat’s dad breaks into a smile, and tells you to “Come on in, son!” Oh. That was easier than expected.

Inside, clearly waiting for you is a guy that looks like an older version of Karkat. He frowns, glaring at you without a stop, unlike his father. Grimacing mouth opening quickly, he starts to speak.

“Oh. So you’re who my little brother has been seeing for the last while. Tell me, have you triggered him in any way? Has he accidentally triggered you? I must know this, because I keep a mental list of everyone without respect for those who are triggered easily. And a mental list of everyone’s personal triggers. Speaking of which, what are yours? Feel free to list them from common to rare, for example, from things like fear of heights and hatred of small spaces to having a panic attack at the mention of eggs or cardboard boxes. Oh no. Please tell me if I accidentally triggered you with any of those statements- I feel absolutely terrible about it.”

“... No.”

You cringe a bit, now with the full knowledge of where Karkat’s ranting comes from. This… can’t be easy to live with. You feel kind of bad for your boyfriend. Of course, this thought is immediately ripped out of your head once you hear stomping feet and general grumpiness come down the stairs.

“Dad, where’s my fucking hairbrush? I look like a bunch of birds have been living in my hair and making some sort of dumbass nest for the past few years! And- Oh. Hey Dave.”

He looks absolutely adorable. Holy shit. Even though Karkat’s hair is a mess, he’s absolutely perfect. His grey suit matches yours- clearly a feat of Kanaya’s- and his tie is just a bit wonky, enough to show that he has no idea what he’s been doing for the past hour or so. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Sup, Kat. Kanaya’s got a hairbrush in the car, so, yeah.”

You barely manage to form words, you’re so happy.

“Oh, okay. One second, dad wants to take some photos to hang up on the wall and fall off in a week because he doesn’t understand how fucking nails work-”

“Language.”

Wow, his brother is intolerable. Anyways, the two of you stand together awkwardly, ready for photos. You ignore how your palms are sweating a ridiculous amount, and he ignores the fact that his hair is still a rat’s nest. The photos come out like you hope the rest of the night won’t- stilted and imperfect, with a glare from the flash shining in both of your eyes and making them even redder than before. Fuck, red is a beautiful color. You wouldn’t want to have anything else connecting the two of you.

On the way to prom, Kanaya and Rose tell dumb, convoluted jokes just to piss you off while Karkat tugs at his hair, trying to make it even slightly presentable. The four of you are like a wonderfully dysfunctional family in the best way possible. After he gives up, you help Karkat a bit, attempting to fix his tie, but only making it look worse. Once Kanaya finishes parking, she looks back and, rolling her eyes, she actually ties it correctly. What an icon.

Looking at each other, you and Karkat enter the building, ready for a night that you’ll never forget. Or forget immediately after taking a sip of punch. But who’s to say? Anyways, you step in, taking in the floor. It’s trashy as all hell, streamers laying on the ground and shitty rap music blasting in the background, but it couldn’t be any better. He grabs your hand, and the two of you step into dim red lights, prepared for whatever the future brings you.


End file.
